


Sadness in the Dark

by dragonwriter24cmf



Series: Stand Together [1]
Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Referenced Trauma, Sharing, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwriter24cmf/pseuds/dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: When Persephone summons Hades, she's not expecting much. She just wants to feel a little better for a few hours. But one thing leads to another, and to a conversation neither of them expected to have. And revelations they might not be ready to handle.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Series: Stand Together [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785232
Comments: 3
Kudos: 135





	Sadness in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to the realm of Greek Mythology, and to the creator of Lore Olympus.

**Sadness in the Dark**

She’s tired. Tired of the whispers that follow her around the school campus. Tired of the sideways looks she gets from Minthe and Thanatos when she’s in the office. Tired of trying to catch up with her work and not feel like an incompetent who lucked her way into a job she’s not qualified for. Tired of balancing school and her internship and...other things.

She’s tired of avoiding Apollo and Artemis and Hermes. Apollo is over every Friday night as agreed, and she hates seeing him there. Can’t stomach interacting with him, even if she said she would be civil. Not when she knows that he’s just waiting for her to surrender to his terms.

Not when she knows what he did, and knows that Artemis and Hermes are still blissfully ignorant. She’s not sure which is worse, their ignorance and lack of comprehension over her animosity. Or their possible responses if she DID tell them what Apollo did.

Would they believe her? Or would Artemis side with her brother and leave her in the cold? Maybe even kick her out of the house? Would Hermes turn on her, even as long as they’ve been friends? Would Apollo confess, or would he lie? Or worse, tell the truth in a way that makes it seem like she asked for his attention? Like she wanted it?

Eros would back her up, she knows. But she doesn’t want to ask. Still, an invisible deadline looms. She can’t keep using the TGOEM scholarship, not now that her virginity is gone. She couldn’t even if everyone agreed it’s not her fault. Someday soon, she’ll have to tell the truth. Unless she wants to pretend she’s giving up the scholarship for another reason. Which will make her seem ungrateful and deceitful.

Which is another thing. In a way, she is being deceitful. And ungrateful. Maybe what happened with Apollo wasn’t her fault, but it still happened. And there’s no denying what she’s coming to wish WOULD happen with Hades, no matter what boundaries either of them sets. Eros is in her corner, and she’s grateful, but still…

How many of her friends – the few of them she has – will remain when the truth comes out? How many of them will turn on her like her classmates?

Will Hades understand? Will he stand beside her? Or will he turn his back on her, disgusted by what she’s kept hidden? She’s afraid of that, even if he’s been nothing but kind to her so far.

Speaking of Hades...she’s not even sure WHAT part of their last interaction bothers her the most. That he had to rescue her again? That he was so clearly hurt by the fact that she didn’t ask for his help? The anger he expressed when she told him why she’d gone to the beach? The clear, honest rage and hurt ringing in his voice when he said ‘you seek to undermine my reputation’? The anguish when he cried out, ‘I WANT YOU!’?

The way she wanted him back? The kiss? Or the way she reacted, turning into butterflies and returning to Olympus?

What did he think when that happened? That she rejected him? Something else? She has a vague memory of his hand still reaching out to her, she thinks. But it’s overshadowed by her mortification at the whole thing, and a feeling of unease, when she remembers her red-eyed self in the mirror.  _ ‘I would have devoured him by now...’ _

Something about that feels beyond wrong, and not just because her powers are meant to be nurturing. The powers of spring, of life. Acts of wrath aside...which she doesn’t want to think about, ever again, thank you.

All of those feelings, on top of everything else...it’s exhausting. It haunts her nights and clouds her days. It wears her down. It makes her long for home, for the simplicity of the living world. It makes her curl up and want to hide in some nameless realm, far away. She tries hiding in her bed, but it’s not enough to drown out the presence of others, and she always has to leave it the next day.

It makes her long for something that can make her feel safe. Loved. Comforted.

Something that can make her feel like she does when Hades is there, rescuing her or laughing with her or teasing her.

When she kneels and taps the ground twice, thinking his name, she’s not expecting anything. Not thinking anything. She just wants...for just one night, she wants to feel safe and secure and respected and loved...all those things she hasn’t felt except for fleeting glimpses in so long.

She just...she wants him. Not the way she thinks he meant when he cried ‘I Want You’, but she wants the comfort of his presence, even if just for a few hours. Somewhere away from judging stares and whispers and the masks they both wear during regular daylight hours.

She doesn’t think he’ll come. But he does, appearing soundlessly behind her in loose sweats. Barefoot. She’s caught him outside of work, in a period of rare relaxation. If she didn’t need his support so much, she’d feel bad about that.

She’s afraid he’ll be annoyed at the disturbance, especially with the way their last interaction went and the boundaries SHE insisted on and seems to keep breaking. But he smiles, greets her first comment with a gentle quip about ‘greater showmanship’. He asks how she is. He hugs her and offers comforting words and kind gestures, kneeling on her floor so he doesn’t tower over her. He hugs her when she clutches at his shirt, lets her go when she pulls back. Agrees without protest when she asks for him to stay beside her as she sleeps.

He picks her up and tucks her in, more like a father than...anything else, than what she suspects they both might wish. He takes no liberties, sliding onto her mattress and under her covers only when SHE indicates it’s what she wants, asking only that she tell him if she becomes uncomfortable with him there, or wants him to leave.

In every way, he’s completely different from Apollo. No demands. No pressure. No insistence. He listens and he answers and he’s kind and respectful and gentle. Safe. Everything she needs in the darkness that swallows her from the inside out.

He asks if they can discuss the kiss, but he does it so quietly, so hesitantly, that she knows if she said no that he’d let it go for another time. He doesn’t reach for her, beyond a comforting hug, pulling back when he thinks she might be uncomfortable.

She wishes she could tell him he doesn’t need to be so careful. She’s embarrassed. Not angry at him, or upset with him for bringing up the issue. He’s right. They do need to discuss it.

She tells him the truth, as much because of the vulnerable uncertainty she sees in his eyes and hears in his voice when he asks as because he’s being kind and deserves an answer. She loved the kiss. Too much for her uncertain mind and heart and body to handle. She over-reacted. Passion...it frightened her a little, especially where it could lead. She’s embarrassed by how she reacted. She feels weird. Stupid.

Who the hell turns into butterflies when they’re happy? Or...thrilled? (Thrilled. She won’t think any other word. Not right now.)

Apparently, he does. Or something. Because the next thing she knows, a silver-black moth is hovering over their hands. And right after that, two little pink butterflies are circling it. And she feels better than she has in a while.

She still can’t sleep. She’s not as stressed or unhappy, but she can feel the looming weight of the darkness hovering over her, and she’s afraid. Afraid that if she sleeps, she’ll wake and he’ll be gone. And she’ll realize that he was never there. Just a sad dream of a lonely child. So she closes her eyes and rests in his arms and enjoys his presence, thinking idle thoughts.

Sweats. He’s wearing sweats. She’s seen him in Living World attire. She’s seen him in business suits and formal wear. She’s seen him in business casual. It’s her first time seeing him in casual, everyday clothes. He looks as good in them as he does everything else.

A stray thought pops into her mind. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt and pants. He’s ALWAYS wearing long sleeves and full-length pants. Even in Olympus, which he says is far warmer than his realm. Even though he says he’s used to the lower temperatures of the Underworld. He’s always covered up from throat to ankle. Even in his Living World garb, he wears long robes, with drapes that cover his arms to the elbow and most of his back.

Always...except for when he rescued her on the beach. He must have grabbed the closest garment he could find before he ran out there. She was too scared to think about it then, and later too flustered, but she remembers that it was short, barely more than a wide belt looped around his hips and fastened to a sash flung haphazardly over one shoulder. The absolute minimum required for decency.

He still looked good in it. But it’s probably best not to think about the ways his muscles flexed, the lines of his legs and the width of his shoulders, and his sculpted abdomen…

She can feel herself flushing, knows she’s going to embarrass herself again if she keeps thinking thoughts like that. But trying not to think of those things only reminds her of what else she saw, what else was left exposed.

She moves before she can really think about it, lifting one hand to trace idly over his shoulder, following a haphazard line across his chest—a line like jagged lightning.

“What?” His voice is soft, faintly amused, kind. She wonders if that will change if she tells him what she’s really thinking about.

On the other hand, she can’t pretend she didn’t see. And she doesn’t think she should, even if she could. And anyway, he’s seen her vulnerable tonight. She’s answered his questions. Surely she’s allowed one of her own?

Besides, he’s certainly free to refuse to answer. She’ll press him no more about it than he pressed her about the kiss.

She swallows, strokes a hand across his shoulder, remembers jagged silver-white lines against blue skin. “It’s just...can I ask you something? Personal?”

A low chuckle. “Well, you still owe me an answer. But I suppose...” She feels him shrug with an easy nonchalance. She’s tempted to pick another question. He’s relaxed, calm right now, and she doubts he’ll remain that way if she speaks what’s on her mind.

On the other hand, she’s tired of secrets. Tired of hidden things. She wants to trust him, but she’s so afraid. Maybe...maybe if she can find the courage to ask for his secrets, she might also find the courage to share her own.

Still...it’s so hard. She finally chooses a sideways approach. “You know, in the Living World, most gods are considered these...perfect beings.”

Another soft laugh. “I know. Paragons, even in our faults, as well as our virtues.”

“Ummm...” She blushes, knowing that’s true. “...I meant physically.”

“Hmm?” He makes an inquiring sound, clearly wondering where she’s headed with this.

“My mother...she’s beautiful. But...not perfect. I’ve seen the scars she has, from the Titan Wars...”

And there’s the tension she’s expecting, the stiffness that floods into his muscles, though his hand remains gentle. “A lot of Olympians have scars from back then. Demeter, Hephaestus, Hera...”

“You.” She murmurs the word softly, but he flinches as though he’s been struck. She looks up to see pain, deep as the void of night and wreathed in shame, flare to life in his eyes before he turns his face away. She grips his sleeve, knowing that even now he won’t pull away from her touch.

He stills, but doesn’t turn back to her. She can feel the pain radiating from him, anguish deeper than anything she’s ever imagined.

She continues, knowing that only truth will get them through this. Only truth, and only if she can speak sincerely enough to reach through and soothe his torment, brought to life by her words.

“I saw them. That day...” She lingers over the word. “You always wear long clothing, but when you rescued me on the beach, you weren’t. And I saw them. Your scars...”

He shudders. She keeps speaking, soft and low and calming, the way she would to a wounded or frightened animal. “You healed my classmate, put his eye back. It looked like it was almost easy for you. I was surprised...I can’t imagine what would...”

“Don’t try to. Please. Don’t.” The please sounds so strange from him, this king of the Underworld who usually seems so assured, so in command. He moves then, turning onto his back again, but not facing her, his free arm rising to cover his face with the loose sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Why? Why would you…?” His voice seems to crack. He swallows, seems to gather himself back into himself with some considerable effort. “What are you trying to ask me?”

“What happened. Who hurt you like that.” She’s seen him heal terrible wounds. She’s seen Ares recover from a spike to the gut. What did that to him, left those scars like lightning forking across his body.

She hopes it wasn’t real lightning. That would mean Zeus...her mother has never liked the king of Olympus, and she can’t say she was too impressed the few times she met him, but she knows he and Hades and Poseidon are brothers, and the idea that he could do something like that to his own brother…

No, she really hopes it wasn’t lightning. She swallows and wraps her hands around his arm, offering him comfort without demands. “You don’t have to tell me. If it really bothers you. We can talk about something else. Something more cheerful, like your dogs.”

That wrings a wry laugh from him, but it’s like the cracking of ice or the breaking of something. She considers offering him a trade, a secret for a secret. But it feels dirty somehow. Not like when she asked him about being single. That was almost a game between them. This is too personal. Too private. Too deep. It touches on genuine wounds, wounds that, though they appear scarred, might still be bleeding somewhere deep within him.

He’s silent for a long moment, but then he sighs. “I...I just...I don’t understand why you’re asking?” There’s a question, a silent request for knowledge, for a reason. No demand, even now, when she’s brazenly probed at wounds he’s tried so hard to keep hidden.

But she finds herself answering, because he deserves it, and because she has found some courage after all, in these questions. Not enough to lay out her whole life story in detail. But enough to give him something, even as afraid as she is of his censure.

“I...I really wanted to go to Olympus, to go to college. To leave home. Mother was completely against it. She was going to refuse the scholarship, even though she originally pushed for it, if having it meant me leaving home. But then...something happened.”

She swallows. He doesn’t say anything, and somehow, that makes it a bit easier. “I told you once that I was trying to distance myself from acts of wrath...what happened that changed Mother’s mind was related to that. Mother...she worked hard to keep what happened from my records, and I don’t think I’m really ready to talk about it, but...”

She feels a gentle, hesitant hug. “I imagine, knowing what I do of Demeter, that it must have been fairly drastic. She’s not one to change her mind lightly. Stubborn as the Earth, as they say. And besides that...was it your first experience with wrath?”

“Yes.”

“Those can be difficult to handle. And most of the older gods tend to be protective of their children when the first incident occurs.” He pauses. “It’s not common knowledge, or a really proven theory even, but I’ve noticed that the more even-tempered and kind a god, or even a lesser immortal, is naturally, the more dramatic and damaging the first act of wrath is. Sometimes even the second or third. Zeus’s lightning is formidable and frightening, but when Poseidon gets angry...”

“I’ve seen. The huge waves.” She blinks at him. “Was yours...”

“Dramatic enough.” He shrugs, and it’s obvious he doesn’t want to speak more of it. “Let’s just say that my reaction to your journalistic stalker was...mostly restrained. I might have taken his eye, but Hecate did the beating. She’s fond of you, and she was...very displeased.”

“Oh.”

He sighs again. “Mine was a long time ago. But you’ve probably heard about Eros. His first act of wrath wasn’t all that long ago. Aphrodite kept it from being a permanent mark on his record, but it’s a well-known incident. Especially in the Underworld, since we had to handle the clean-up.”

“I know. He told me.” She leans herself into his arm, reveling in his voice, even when she can feel he’s still unsettled. “I asked him why he would stick me in your car after that one party...” They both laugh at the memory of the events that led to their first meeting. “He said he owed his mother a favor for helping him after he got his heart broken and went on a rampage.”

“That’s the one.”

She swallows again and clings more tightly to his sleeve. “Mine was...a little like that.”

“Hmm...” He makes a thoughtful noise. She knows he’s curious. She also knows he’s being kind, understanding that she doesn’t want to discuss it and leaving it alone.

Someday, she promises herself, she’ll tell him everything. All of it. But not now. And especially not when she knows several people will get in trouble. Her mother and Hermes for starters. She’ll owe him an apology, whenever she DOES tell him, but that’s okay.

She decides to go back to her original point. “After that, Mother agreed to let me come to Olympus on the TGOEM scholarship, and agreed to let me stay with Artemis. And I was so glad to be someplace new, somewhere I could learn, be myself. And I do enjoy school, and Artemis is a good friend, but...things kept happening, situations I had no idea how to deal with. Like being set up in your car, and meeting you, and then Hera set me up for that work internship without warning, and I felt like I couldn’t refuse...”

She sniffles, then looks up at him until he tilts his head down to meet her gaze. “You have to know...I’m not really...I mean, I know how to use computers, and I’m a fast learner, but my laptop is old and worn, and not at all like the things you use...I had to get help from Minthe to learn the programming, because I was too embarrassed to ask Hecate. And I know everyone thinks you set the whole thing up...”

“I know. I’ve heard the whispers.” He sighs. “I wish Hera hadn’t done that without asking me. I...” He looks embarrassed. “She caught me talking to Zeus about finding you in my car. I’m pretty sure she set the whole thing up as a test to see if I’d be on good behavior around you.”

“Oh...” She’s not sure how she feels about that. On the one hand, she’s glad she’s gotten to know him so well, and it probably wouldn’t have happened without Hera’s intervention. On the other hand...it’s a whole different level of stress.

“I wanted to give us both an out, especially after you wound up in Tower Four. And the tabloid. But you seemed to want the job, and your mother IS a well-known person in Olympus and the Underworld, what with being the Barley Mother. Hecate gave me a lecture for how I handled that, but the truth is, I was improvising, and I might have gotten a bit...”

“No. I understand. I...I felt like I needed the job. And I didn’t want to upset Hera by refusing when she was advocating for me. I didn’t find out until later that the internship wasn’t normally arranged then.” She blushes. “But I...”

She doesn’t want to talk about it. But isn’t it better to tell him now? And...and maybe she can use this for practice, for when she has to tell everyone else. “I...I want to tell you something. It’s a secret. And I...you won’t like it. But please just listen to me?”

“Of course. Whatever it is. Even if I don’t like it, I would never get angry without letting you explain yourself.”

Fair. He didn’t get angry at her about the shore until she told him why she was there. He didn’t get angry that she wound up in Tower Four. Or in his house. Or about the butterfly thing.

She swallows and allows herself the luxury of burrowing into his side, into the comfort of his soft hoodie. He makes a soft sound, and his arm wraps around her, gentle and comforting, without applying any pressure.

“A while ago...before the internship thing, actually, but not long after I met you...something happened. Something bad. And I...I’m not eligible for the TGOEM Scholarship anymore.” She feels the tension that floods him, hears the deep, subvocal snarl that she’s not sure he even realizes he’s emitting. She tightens her grip, and he calms, though it feels more like the leashing of violence than the subsiding of it. “That’s why I needed the job, to pay the money back.”

“Kore...” His voice is a deep rumble. She shakes her head against his shoulder.

“I won’t tell you who it was. I want to handle it on my own. And I don’t want the rumors that will start if you handle it for me. I want to deal with this myself.” She pauses. “Eros knows. I was...after it happened, I was really confused. I...when it was happening, I was too confused, to upset and uncertain to protest. And I thought it was my fault. Eros...he realized something had changed.”

“He would. It’s within the realm of his powers.”

“Yeah. That’s what he said. But I let him see the memory...he’s the one who told me it wasn’t my fault. That what happened to me was wrong, that the other person was the one who did something bad, not me. But...I’m still trying to deal with it. And I feel so mixed up, and I try not to be angry and frustrated, but it’s so hard...”

“Are you at least letting Eros help you?” His question is quiet. “If he knows...if it’s within his realm of responsibilities...”

“Yeah. He’s been great about it.” She sighs, glad that he is at least willing to pretend to be calm and collected for her. “He’s been...keeping an eye out for me. Taking me to his house when I get too upset.”

“Hmm...not sure how comfortable that would be with Ares and Aphrodite, but if it helps...”

“It does. Even Ares, actually. I can...get angry around him, you know? And I don’t feel like it’s wrong, the way I do some other times.”

A low chuckle, and the first sign of relaxation she’s felt since she said something happened. “Yeah. The idiot would be good for that.”

She smiles a little. Then she sighs and leans into him. “Anyway...the reason I asked about...about your wounds...I just...with everything...”

She sniffles, then burrows just a little bit closer, feeling ashamed and comforted and lighter and heavier all at once. “I remembered them, and I thought about how something awful had happened to you, but you seem to be so in charge, so in control. So calm and collected, even when you’re upset. And it made me think that...well, it must be possible to get over things like that. And I thought, if I asked you, and if you told me, then maybe I’d understand...that I could figure some things out…”

Saying it out loud, it seems so stupid and childish. Selfish too. Like saying she wants to hurt him just because she’s hurting.

He sighs, and lying against him, it feels like the sound comes from the deepest parts of his soul. The tension seeps out of him, but it doesn’t feel like relaxing. More like surrendering, like he’s accepting some sort of burden, breathing out to ease the stress of some considerable weight.

She gulps, feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be.” He sighs again. “I...you have to understand, Kore...I’m not. Not...as in control as you think I am. But I’ve had a very long time to deal with what happened to me, and come to terms with it. I wouldn’t say I’ve gotten over it, exactly. But I’ve learned to cope, and I have people who help me if it becomes a problem.”

“So it doesn’t go away?” She’s not sure she can handle that.

“Not completely. But you can learn to control it, to live with it. To deal with it. Whatever scars, physical or otherwise, that you have, whether from acts of wrath or something that happened to you...you can learn to deal with them. It’s taken a long time, but I don’t...most days are fairly good. You’ve seen how I can be. The memories, the feelings, the hurt...it’s only bad once in a while.” He pauses. “You’ll find out, as you heal...certain things might always trigger the pain. Or...whatever it is you feel. But you can minimize it.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

“Hmmm. You’ll also find things that help.”

“Like dogs?” She blinks up at him.

He offers her a crooked grin. “Among other things.”

“Okay.”

He hums again, then gives her a much softer, gentler smile. “Kore...I can only guess that today was a...harder day?” She nods. “You don’t need to be embarrassed by that.” He gazes at her ceiling. “If you’ve...if you’ve found things that help, and if you’re letting Eros help you, if you’ve found places you can go and things that you can do to help you feel better, then you’ve made progress. You’re doing well. It’s okay to have a bad day here and there, and it’s okay if it’s more frequent in the beginning.”

And just with those words, she feels a weight lift, a weight she didn’t even realize she felt. Somewhere deep inside, she felt like she was a failure, letting everything affect her so badly. And that feeling has kept spiraling, with every whisper, every time she sees Apollo’s car and sneaks in the back to avoid him, with the realization that her grades were slipping.

It’s okay. She doesn’t have to be strong and cheerful and upbeat and Little Miss Spring Sunshine. She can be sad and scared and angry. She can, as Eros says, take care of herself, take time for herself and what SHE needs. She can feel.

She feels like she’s going to cry. So she burrows into his shoulder. “Thank you.”

She starts when he shifts, when his free hand cups her face. She looks up into his wine-colored eyes. “Thank you.” He tips his head and rests his forehead against hers, not a kiss but a gift and an intimacy nonetheless. “Thank you for trusting me. For calling on me when you needed someone. For letting me be here for you.”

“Even though I won’t tell you everything? And I asked about…?” She trails off.

“Even then.” He leans back. “And if you want to know...about these...” He tugs the edge of his shirt up, to reveal the jagged lines forking across his abdomen. “I can tell you.” He sighs again. “It’s not a nice story, but it might help give you some perspective. If that’s something you think you want.”

“But...won’t it...you...” She’s not sure what she wants to say, or ask, but she remembers the pain she saw earlier.

A sharp smile, more like a snap of something sharp than a smile, whips across his face. His sarcastic smile, but with a deeper edge. “I’ve been told it helps to talk about it. Besides...” He shrugs, as much as he can while holding her. “It’s not exactly a secret. Most of Olympus can tell you the basics, and Demeter, Hera or Hecate could tell you more than that, if you wanted to ask them. If I’m being honest...I’d rather you heard it from me.”

“But...won’t it hurt you.”

“Not as much as you think.” She’s not sure she believes him. “It was a long time ago. I’m not always comfortable with people seeing my scars, or with talking about them, but trust me when I say it’s not nearly as uncomfortable as some of the things Zeus gets me into on a regular basis.” There’s a hint of laughter there.

She’s still not sure she believes him. But he’s offering, and she feels so raw, after telling him all those things, even if he’s being kind about it, and his words are helpful. And, even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she is curious. And he might be right, that something to put her experiences into perspective will help. “Okay. But only if you feel like telling me. And if won’t be too disturbing for you.”

“I’ll be fine.” He sighs, shifts a little, getting more comfortable. “Before I start...what do you know about the Titan War?”

“What my mother taught me. She said that Kronus was the king of the Titans.” And she’s sure she’s not imagining the way he flinches when she says the Titan King’s name. “And he was a horrible tyrant, and he hated his children, for some reason. And eventually, his children and a lot of the creatures like nymphs and satyrs and lesser immortal creatures banded together with some of the Titans who rebelled against him, and there was a war. And when it ended, Kronus was defeated, and Zeus and his siblings made a home in Olympus, repaired the Living World, created new creatures, like humans, and became Olympians. The new gods of the Living World. She said everyone chose their realms based on their skills, and what they were interested in.”

“Close enough, I suppose.” There’s a dark edge to his voice, but she refrains from asking. She’s pretty sure she’s going to find out why that edge is there if he really does decide to tell her everything.

He takes a deep breath, then breathes out slowly. “To really understand...I have to go back to before the war. Before most of the Olympians, actually. You see...Kronus had a wife named Rhea. And she...she was my mother.”

“Oh. What was she like?” She hopes Rhea was a good mother.

“Kind. Gentle. Protective. Loving. She tried to keep me safe from Kronus. I was her first child. She kept me safe for six years.”

“Six years?”

“Yes. And then Kronus decided that was long enough, that he couldn’t let me grow old enough to defy him. There was a prophecy that his children would overthrow him. He decided he would keep that from happening.”

Not a nice story, he said. Awful is more like it. Horrible. Heartbreaking.

He talks about his sixth birthday, when Kronus came just after Helios passed by, knocked Rhea away, and snatched him from his hiding place. How Kronus, his own father, swallowed him whole. Swallowed him alive. A frightened screaming child, begging for his mother as he fell past his father’s teeth and down his throat and into his gut.

He talks about years, huddled in the darkness. Utterly alone. No sight. No sound. No presence of any other living thing. Unable to die. Unable to escape. A child drowning in his father’s darkness in complete and utter solitude. Kronus swallowed the others, but by then he’d been alone for a long time. Such a long time.

He talks about how Zeus and Rhea and the renegade Titans eventually forced Kronus to regurgitate them. Flung from the darkness of his father’s gut, past gnashing teeth. Flung back into a realm he hadn’t seen in over a decade and wounded by his fall.

He talks about his first act of wrath. About looking into his father’s face for the first time since he was devoured. The violence of it, that broke open the gates of Tartarus. He says he doesn’t really remember all the details. She thinks, from the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, that he’s lying. But she doesn’t press.

He talks about the wounds he took in that first battle, some of which healed and some of which are part of the scars that mark him. About lying wounded and broken, being cared for by the goddesses that weren’t preparing to fight. Swathed in bandages and lying in pain, as helpless in the world he returned to as he had been in the darkness of his father’s gut.

He talks about the shame of being wounded, and so severely shattered in his mind and heart that he couldn’t even speak properly. He doesn’t use those words exactly, but she can tell that he felt, and to some extent still feels, the anguish and embarrassment of that time.

He talks about Hera, tending his wounds and helping him regain his speech, the first person to give him much-needed kindness without fear, without censure. The gentleness of her hands and her kindness, and how she became his first friend among the others.

From his tone, it was, and still is, more than friendship. Perhaps not a physical relationship, but the type of warmth she can see building between herself and Eros, in its depth and safety. Or, if one of them decides not to take their current feelings further, the kind of deep connection she might someday share with Hades.

Some part of her feels like she should be envious, the way Minthe clearly is about her own relationship with Hades. But she can’t begrudge him the need for companionship. Or that he enjoyed, or still enjoys, Hera’s company, Hera’s friendship. No more than she can resent Hera for being fond of the King of the Underworld.

She’s glad she’s not the only one to see how worthy he is of kindness and love. Glad she’s not the only one who understands what tenderness he’s capable of. Glad she’s not the only one who sees the man behind the reputation.

He talks about the war, about fighting. Horrendous battles. Kronus didn’t go quietly. And his emergence from his father’s stomach was far from the last time he was wounded. Even the final battle, in which Kronus was thrown down and resealed in Tartarus, he was hurt enough to require bandages for a long time. The more vivid of his scars stem from that last battle.

He resealed Tartarus. She always thought it was Zeus, but apparently, it was his power. Living so long, and from so young, trapped in the darkness of his father’s stomach, so close to the edge of death, even if he could never cross it...it influenced his powers.

His suffering is part of the reason he’s the lord of mist and darkness. The knowledge is heartbreaking, and she has to fight the urge to cry. But that would only upset him, and she can tell he’s already having some difficulty.

He talks about after the battle, when they were all recovering. And when they chose realms and powers to govern, and responsibilities. He tries to make it sound simple, tries to speak casually of it, but she can hear what he doesn’t say, and she can tell he’s letting her hear it. Truth, as promised.

He’s gifted in controlling the darkness, the mists of other realms. His powers make him the ideal gatekeeper. His temperament makes him skilled in the judgment of the dead. His strengths make him the best choice for keeping Tartarus sealed, and Kronus imprisoned. But…

But it wasn’t his choice, far from it. To be consigned to the Darkness and the Other Realms after so long in isolation? To suffer the stigma of the ‘God of Death’? Holding the title of the king of the Underworld?

To be continuously feared by humans, and many of the immortals?

His name was once Aidoneus. Now Hades. It’s almost as drastic as her own name change, and no better in terms of connotation.

King he may be. And indeed, he rules well. Yes, he can come to Olympus as often as he chooses, and he has friends and family who call on him frequently, including his two younger brothers. He has people like Hecate, who support him without reservation, and others who love him. The Medusa sisters, for example. He is respected by many.

He is judged by more. And for all his power, all his strength...he is more alone than he wants to be. Than he should have to be, given all he has endured. She saw in their first meeting that his home was huge, echoing, empty.

She never realized it wasn’t entirely by choice. The comforts are the solace he offers himself, trying to ignore the echoes. The house a Palace as a matter of status, more than desire.

She can’t help the words that emerge. “I would have thought Hera...” She blushes. “Sorry...”

He laughs. Not a very nice laugh, not the warm laughs she likes to hear, but a laugh. “No. She did try. But the Underworld is off-putting for most people. Especially people that are used to places like Olympus. And goddesses are a bit...thrown, I suppose, by my age and...” He gestures to his body, to the concealed scars. “And...well, this is embarrassing to admit, but...”

He sighs. Grimaces. “I can’t have children.”

“What?” She’s seen him with Hera’s kids. And with his dogs. She can’t imagine that he’d be a bad father.

“I can’t have them. I’m...not capable. I’m not sure if it’s part of being in the Underworld all the time, or if it’s something to do with my powers, but...” he shrugs, but it looks painful. “Most goddesses want a family. That’s why I was dating Minthe. She wasn’t worried about that.”

“Oh.” She thinks for a second. “You and Minthe...I heard you were...”

“We’re no longer together. And, at this point, I have no intention of getting back together with her. We weren’t...we liked certain things together, but we didn’t really make each other happy, except now and then.”

“But...I guess what I wanted to ask...I was afraid...”

“You weren’t the reason we separated.” His voice is firm and sincere. “There was an incident. And then we fought. Hecate suspended her from work. And while we were apart, I realized that I didn’t want to continue the kind of relationship we had.”

“Oh.” She still feels like it might be kind of her fault. What if they were fighting about her?

Somehow, he guesses. His hand cups her chin, and she looks up into his eyes, focused on her for the first time since he began to tell her his story. “It wasn’t your fault Kore. Minthe...she asked for us to spend time together, and she didn’t show. It hurt my feelings, but when I confronted her about it...she got angry.” He sighs, closing his eyes as pain seeps into his expression. “You remember what I said about things that can trigger certain feelings?”

She nods. She can guess where this is going, and her heart breaks when she’s right. “Minthe knows the things that can do the most damage to me. She knew that what she did would be...bad for me. And when I confronted her, she used more of those triggers against me. Hecate threw her out of the building because her actions and her words sent me into...a state.”

She remembers the way she was hiding in her bed before she called him, the fog that’s filled her mind lately. “Bad?”

He sighs again. She’s been causing him to do that a lot tonight. “Bad. Hecate had to call Hera to help. I was...I got lost for a bit there.”

She feels tears well up and overflow. Hecate had to call Hera in? She can’t imagine how badly he must have been hurt for Hecate to need help taking care of him.

And to think she felt a little bad about maybe breaking them up, and then blackmailing Minthe for help with her work. She certainly doesn’t feel bad now.

His thumb smooths her tears away. “I’m all right now. But I realized that I didn’t want to continue a relationship with someone who would do that to me.”

“Good. You shouldn’t.” She’d kiss him if she weren’t afraid of how her powers would respond. “You don’t deserve that.”

He laughs. “That’s what Hera said. She’s never liked Minthe.”

That’s also encouraging. She feels a little better, knowing it wasn’t her fault, and she’s not being petty when she thinks that Minthe wasn’t good enough for him. Or, at least that she’s not alone in the feeling, that older and wiser goddesses also feel that way.

She feels a lot better than she did when she first summoned him. The butterflies, his and hers. The confirmation that it’s okay if she has a bad day. The knowledge that she’s not alone in navigating this horrid tangle of ugly feelings, and that even he, as old as he is, has similar problems.

And while the perspective part of his story is helpful, she can’t help being distracted. Distracted by the sheer depth and breadth of what he’s endured. Suffered. Survived. She knew the scars meant something terrible had happened. She didn’t realize how bad it was. Demeter’s never told her much about what Kronus did.

Her heart aches, for the pain he’s been through. For all the agony that he’s endured, from the physical to the mental and emotional. He’s trying so hard to pretend he’s all right, telling her all these things, but he’s not good at hiding things in his tone of voice.

Telling her his story wasn’t easy for him at all.

She feels like she needs to sleep. She doesn’t want to risk the damage to his reputation, or hers, if Artemis finds them here like this, or Hermes, or anyone else. Sure, Artemis is away on her duties, but that doesn’t change the fact that this, as much as she needed it, could cause trouble for both of them.

She doesn’t want to send him away, either. Especially not in any manner that might make him feel rejected. She never wants to make him feel like he’s been rejected by her. Never wants to make him feel the way Minthe apparently did.

She finds herself running a hand over his stomach, thinking about the scars that lie underneath the soft fabric—wondering how he’d respond if she touched them directly. Would it hurt him? Is he ticklish? Would he even be able to feel it? And what would they feel like, those marks of his long-ago ordeal?

“You’re thinking about something. Willing to share?” His voice breaks into her thoughts, so calm, so gentle that she might almost believe he hasn’t spent the better part of the past hour remembering ordeals that would destroy another person.

“Oh, ummm...” She doesn’t have an excuse ready. She decides she might as well be honest. He has been. “I was just wondering...the scars...what do they feel like?”

“Not much like anything, anymore. The wounds are old.”

“But...I mean...they don’t bother you? With all the layers of clothing you wear? Or if someone touches them?”

“Nope. I get my clothing tailor-made and  _ very _ comfortable, unless it’s old and soft and loose like this.” He waves his arm, indicating his sweats. “Touch...it depends on the way the contact happens, I suppose. Casual contact certainly doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Implying that it did at some point. She can’t imagine what that was like, with the extent of those scars.

He tips his head to look down at her, and she sees a spark of mischief in his eye. “You can test it for yourself if you want.” He hooks a finger in the collar of his hoodie and tugs down, to reveal the scars on his shoulder. “Go ahead.”

She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. But...well, she’s pretty much evaporated every rule she set already, and they’ve kissed, and...well, she wants to know. She wants to see if she’ll hurt him with a hug, if he’s hiding pain when he embraces her. She doesn’t want to cause him more pain.

She reaches up with a tentative hand, to trace a finger along the white line that slices over his shoulder. His skin is warm, and unlike the calluses of his hands, soft. The scar feels a little odd under her hand, but she doesn’t feel the subtle shiver that would probably indicate he’s in pain.

She tracks the line down, across the point of his shoulder and his collarbone, across his chest. The muscles are firm under her touch, relaxed but with the promise of strength she knows full well he has. She continues, curious to see how far she can trace before the sweatshirt gets in the way.

She’s tracing across his upper pectoral when he does shiver, a full-body shudder that comes with a sharp exhale. She jerks back. “I’m sorry...”

“You don’t have to be. You didn’t hurt me.” She looks at him, unsure if he’s lying to make her feel better, and he makes a breathless sound that might be a laugh. “You didn’t hurt me, Kore. Just the opposite.” He flicks his hand, and two moths appear. “See?”

Oh. OH. She gulps, and he laughs again. “I like gentle touches. Not necessarily  _ that _ way. I just like feeling cared for. Hecate frequently hugs me if she thinks I’m having trouble, for example.”

Oh. She feels a  _ little _ less embarrassed now. Someday, she thinks, if she ever sorts out everything, gets out of TGOEM, and finds the nerve to try a relationship with him – and if he’s still interested – she might try tracing all those scars, watching how he reacts.

She wants to see his face when she touches him with kindness. As she tries to replace the marks of pain with memories of caring. Maybe Hera, maybe even Hecate, have already done so. She doesn’t care. If she ever – if  _ they _ ever – get a chance at a relationship without any jobs or propriety or scholarships or stupid adolescent issues in the way, she wants to see him light up under  _ her  _ touch. She wants to make him feel as safe and cherished as he makes her feel.

She wants – she wants to make him feel safe and loved, to be with him and let him erase what Apollo’s done with his kindness and his gentleness. She wants, if she can be free of her current circumstances, to feel what loving ought to feel like, the way she’s heard it described. All she felt with Apollo was pain and shame and confusion. She’s sure that it would be different with Hades.

“Hey. You should probably get some sleep.” She nods against his shoulder. “I’ll stay as long as you want, but...I know the rules TGOEM usually has. I don’t want to get you in any trouble. So...if you want...do you want me to go before Artemis gets back?”

No. She doesn’t. But she appreciates his concern for her. And she does need to be careful now. They both do. “Ummm...”

He sighs. “Okay. How about this? I’ll stay with you, like this.” He indicates how she’s curled into his side. “Until you fall asleep. If you wake up before Artemis returns, I’ll leave then. If you’re asleep but not holding onto me, I’ll leave before she arrives, but I’ll leave a reminder that I was here on the top shelf of your closet. So you know. If I can’t get away without waking you...I have a trick that should hide me from her sight, as long as she doesn’t look too closely.”

That sounds...well, it’s not what she wants, what she really wants, but it seems like the best compromise between what they should do and what she wants to do. And better than she thought she might get. “Okay.”

“Okay.” His hand caresses her face, brushes her hair back. “Go ahead and try to get some sleep.”

She does feel a little tired now. The emotional roller-coaster of revealing her secrets and listening to his story has left her feeling a bit drained. But better, like something broken is healing, or at least less jagged inside. “Okay.”

She snuggles into his side, into his warmth, and closes her eyes. She thought she might never get to sleep before, but now she feels like she’s drifting off at once.

She’s not sure how the next day will feel. How she’ll get through it. There’s so much that she needs to do, to take care of. But for now, she feels better. Safer. Happier.

Tomorrow...well, maybe tomorrow she’ll call Eros. Tell him about this and see what he says. His expertise is matters of the heart, maybe he can give her some good advice. And maybe Ares can give her some tips for facing down Apollo and handling all the whispers and the muttering.

But that’s tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Written before I read Episode 113. I know it's AU now, but I couldn't help releasing this might-have-been into the world.


End file.
